When the Ball Drops
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Months after the events of TFP, Sherlock asks Molly to accompany him on a case in New York. Unbeknownst to Molly, it is a case of the heart.
1. Welcome to New York

Molly wasn't entirely sure why she agreed to go with Sherlock to New York on a case, especially since he had insisted on going alone to wherever the hell he was headed. This left Molly all alone in the hotel room that Anthea had booked for them and 'conveniently' there was only one bed. Mycroft's PA was only trying to give her and Sherlock a bit of a push.

After explaining about the phone call, Sherlock had acted as if Molly were a bomb that could set off at any moment. She was sure she had caught him literally tip-toeing around her. They were both aware of each other's feelings, but Molly never expected anything to come of it. And nothing had, really. They were the best of friends, despite his fear of hurting her further than he already had.

Suddenly, though, it all changed when he swept into the morgue three days ago asking if she would accompany him on a case in New York. He proceeded to ramble about how Stamford already approved of it and John wasn't going because he didn't want to be far from Rosie. Of course, the entire story was just a ruse, unbeknownst to Molly. Sherlock had something planned just for the two of them. For once, there really wasn't a case, and he was okay with that. This was also exciting…and a bit nerve-wracking if he were to be honest.

It was evening when they arrived in the Big Apple, and Molly promptly collapsed on the sofa in their hotel room after he had gone out. She was nearly asleep from the jet lag when the sound of Sherlock's voice startled her. It had been two hours since he left her in the hotel room. She watched as he set down boxes and bags as if he'd been shopping.

"You are not sleeping on the sofa, Molly," he told her.

"S'fine," she mumbled sleepily. She let out a shriek when Sherlock lifted her in his arms and settled her on the bed. "You're not sleeping on the sofa either." Molly watched him freeze completely, reverting back to the version of himself he'd been with her the past few months. He turned pale as if he'd seen a ghost, starting to tip toe around the subject they were on.

"I don't sleep on a case," he replied quickly.

"Sherlock," Molly spoke softly, "you don't have to tread carefully around me. I'm not fragile."

"I know you're not," he admitted. "You're the strongest person I know." She didn't expect that reply. "I'm just afraid."

"What are you afraid of?" Molly asked, now sitting upright, inviting him to sit beside her. He accepted her invitation and she gazed into his eyes. They were full of emotion, swirling amongst the beautiful shades of blue and green.

"Losing you," he answered. "If I make one misstep, I could lose you forever. I'm surprised I haven't yet."

"You are not going to lose me," she promised him. "Sherlock, you're my best friend. You did what you had to do to save me. Thank you for that. I'm sorry that I made that situation harder than it needed to be." Before he could answer, Molly gently wrapped her arms around him, but what surprised her was that he returned the gesture, holding her tightly to him. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, neither wanting to let go.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he questioned, nodding at the bed.

"We've shared one before," she smiled. "How is this time any different?"

They both got ready for bed and slipped under the covers. Whilst Sherlock was fast asleep, Molly was still awake. She knew why this time was different. Unlike the previous instances when they shared a bed, Sherlock was actually cuddling, and was very adamant about holding her. Any time she moved the slightest bit, he hugged her to him just a bit tighter. The feeling of being held by him, the man she has loved for nearly a decade and still loves, relaxed her for the first time in a while. Molly felt content with him. Perhaps taking this case with him wasn't a bad idea after all.


	2. Breaking Free

"Good morning," Sherlock's deep baritone sounded. His voice always sent thrills through her, warming her from head to toe. Before she had a chance to respond, he pressed his lips to her cheek, lingering much longer than he ever had the last two times he had done it. Molly couldn't help but be confused no matter how much she enjoyed his affection. This wasn't how he normally acted on a case. In fact, he seemed relaxed rather than the excitable, tightly wound version of himself when he was on the cusp of capturing a murderer.

"Morning," she mumbled back. And damn it, she couldn't help but smile at him. He was grinning like a fool in love— _well, if he was in love,_ she thought. Sherlock had to keep himself reigned in until tonight, but he wanted nothing more than to snog her silly. His heart was racing just from waking up next to her. Molly noticed his eyes flick down to her lips and the tension was so thick, you could slice it with a knife. But all was broken when a knock sounded on the door. Room service.

Though the moment had been broken—a moment Molly was sure she'd never have again—they enjoyed a lovely breakfast together. Whatever this case was, Sherlock was acting as if he weren't on one at all. It perplexed her so much that it was written on her face and he knew she had figured something out.

"Go on, Molly, I know you have questions," Sherlock encouraged her.

"Are we even here on a case, Sherlock?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"What kind of case?" she questioned.

"Not the criminal type," he provided. "I won't divulge more than that. All will be made clear later."

"So, you're not going to tell me why you went shopping last night?" she teased.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he grinned cheekily.

"Well, whatever it is that you have planned, thank you for bringing me with you," she told him.

"Molly, Molly, Molly, I'm disappointed. Seeing and not observing? You're better than that." There was amusement in his tone.

"This was planned with me in mind," she stated.

"That's my girl," he smirked. Oh, how she wished she truly was his girl. In a way, she always would be. Maybe he felt the need to make up for what happened at Sherrinford. Of course, if that were the case, Molly wouldn't have him ever be sorry for saving her, no matter how heart-wrenching it had been. She knew he loved her in his own way. She also knew he never acted on it because he was scared. And to be honest, Molly was scared too. What they had in terms of friendship was so very important to her and to him. A relationship of the romantic nature could mess everything up if it ended badly. Molly would rather he be in her life as only her best friend than as nothing at all.

"You're thinking quite loudly," he remarked. "You're worried." Molly opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her before one word was uttered. "I don't want you to worry about a thing, Molly. This is supposed to be a weekend of being carefree; a weekend of just having fun." She nearly gasped when his hand held hers. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied without any hesitance.

"Then you know I wouldn't ever plan something you wouldn't enjoy," he assured her. And she did know that. A part of her felt he was trying to convey something important. She knew she was right when he spoke again. "It's time to stop being scared." Sherlock said it not just for her benefit, but for his own. He would not allow fear to keep him from the woman he loved; not anymore. No more would it control him.


	3. Auld Lang Syne

By the time evening rolled around, it had occurred to Molly that today was the thirty-first of December. It was New Year's Eve…and they were in New York City. Suddenly, Molly knew exactly what Sherlock had planned for them. When he exited the bathroom, dressed in his three-piece suit— complete with aubergine shirt, Belstaff and scarf—she couldn't help but throw her arms around him. She felt rather than heard him chuckle at her sudden display of affection.

"Figured it out did you?" he asked. He knew she would have figured it out sooner or later.

"Thank you," she told him. Molly had always wanted to travel to Time's Square to see the ball drop. It just seemed so lively and magical to her.

"You deserve it, Molly Hooper," he told her, his voice thick with emotion. "Now, you should get dressed for tonight." He handed her a couple of bags that were clearly from Macy's. In a daze, Molly locked herself up in the bathroom to change. She dug through the first bag, expecting something posh, but was pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful wine red jumper with black and white hearts decorating it. Upon further inspection, she found a pair of blue skinny jeans, a red knit scarf and a grey knit beanie with a pom-pom on top it. Sherlock definitely knew her style preferences to a T.

After putting on the jeans, jumper and hat, Molly dug into the second bag, pulling out a lovely black coat with two buttons and tied at the waist. It was almost a feminine version of Sherlock's Belstaff. She now adorned the warm coat and took out the other item—a shoebox. Inside, she found a pair of ruched leather boots that went over the knee. She was thankful that they were flat rather than heeled.

Sherlock was pacing when she exited the bathroom, dressed in everything except for the scarf which was still in her hand.

"You didn't have to do all this," she told him, "but thank you. I love it."

"You look beautiful," he told her with a smile that lit up his eyes. Approaching her, Sherlock gently removed the scarf from her hand and wrapped it around her, tying it the same way he wore his. For such a simple gesture, it felt intimate to have him put the scarf on her. His fingers had brushed her warm skin, over her pulse point. In fact, he lingered much longer than necessary for wrapping a scarf around someone's neck. He had kissed her forehead before backing away, his face slightly flushed.

"Well, you look handsome as always," she flirted whilst putting on her black gloves, feeling more confident. It came so easily to her. She felt her fears withering away every minute she spent with him. Maybe they'd be okay after all. When he offered his arm to her, as they were both ready to go, she took it gladly, feeling those long-missed butterflies in her stomach. Tonight was going to be perfect.

* * *

The air was crisp and biting, but Molly felt an inner warmth in the arms of the man she loved. Sherlock stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. As they watched the performances, he'd sometimes rest his chin on top of her head and found much amusement in hearing her sing along to the music. The cold air made her small, upturned nose turn pink at the tip and her cheeks flush. She looked so beautiful to him.

He was pleased when Molly placed her hands where his were on her waist. She leaned into him more to keep warm and to just feel him surrounding her. Sherlock bent his head down and placed a kiss on the apple of her cheek. It felt as if they were the only people there, which was quite the feat considering the large crowd gathered there.

With what little room they had to themselves, they danced together to the next performer's song, finding that they were perfectly suited for each other as dance partners. It didn't come as a surprise to either of them, though. It soon became time for the countdown to begin and they watched as it was displayed for all to see.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven," she and Sherlock shouted along with the crowd. "Six, five, four, three, two, one!" Apparently, there was one last surprise left in this world because Molly initiated their first real kiss, tugging on the lapels of his coat to bring him to her height. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Her hands moved to his hair and he held her body close to his. She granted him access when his tongue traced against the seam of her lips, warm and inviting. Sherlock kissed her deeply, tilting his head at just the right angle. If any moans escaped their lips, they didn't care who heard them.

They parted, for they needed to catch their breath. He leaned his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes with such intensity. She nuzzled her nose against his with a need to give him affection whilst their breathing slowed.

"Happy New Year, Molly Hooper," he spoke in a gentle tone. Then his lips were on hers again, softer this time, savoring the taste of each other. Auld Lang Syne was being sung by the crowd as they got lost together. It was a new year, a new beginning for both of them. And what a year it was going to be for them, taking on the world together.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** thanks for reading! I actually did find Molly's outfit all on Macy's website...go on Ao3 to see the photo collage of it!


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